Posts Tagged ‘Fiction’

The old man scratched absently at the stubble on his chin and leaned on his hoe. “Yep, this is where we grow ’em, all right. These here cosmoi been in my family, oh, ten, twelve generations. Been a god-farming family since long afore the rest o’ the town sprang up these parts.” He fell silent in contemplation for a moment, taking his straw hat off and fanning himself with it.

I blinked, not entirely sure what to say to that. “I had no idea the… industry went back that far.”

“Oh sure!” He brightened. “Deiculture goes way back. Weren’t no civilization afore it started. ‘Course, it weren’t like this back then.” He gestured toward the finely delineated cosmoi, each neatly squared off from the others and surrounded by split-rail wooden fences. “Was mostly as folk’d drop a wild idea or two into whatever cosmos they’d happen to be passing, come back later and find a god or two’d sprung up in the meanwhile.” He chuckled. “Weren’t much to speak of, them gods. All wild ‘n’ animalistic. You’d barely even call ’em anthropomorphic! But we’re smart critters. We figgered it out right quick.”

“So, uh, there’s a lot to it, then? To growing… gods?” I resisted the urge to shake my head. Or maybe pinch myself, I wasn’t sure.

Yet again, I managed to write on day 3 and not on 4. I meant to post this yesterday, but I was hoping to get a little more down so that there wasn’t quite so abrupt an ending. Oh well. Comments are always welcome!

Forgive me for being so detailed, for, though I could write of the wonders of your beauty for days on end, you are no doubt wondering what this other matter is that has me so excited. In the due course of time, our Ark arrived at Angelorum, and we stirred from our months-long dreaming to see that blue-brown orb perched in the firmament like an exceptionally subtle gem on some immeasurable jeweler’s velvet. The countours of its continents were, of course, familiar to me as they are to all members of the Order; I found myself searching the coast-lines, half expecting to see the ruins of the great ancient cities. They were, of course, invisible from such distance, and I felt like a silly schoolboy for letting my eagerness overwhelm my reason.

I exchanged my usual rough-hewn but functional habit for ceremonial vestments, affixing with the proper invocations first the symbol of the Order on the right shoulder, that of my Chapter on the right, the seal of my Mentor’s house at my collar, and the Raven-and-sun crest which is my own over my heart. I left my cabin to be greeted by Proctor Silas, similarly arrayed. I had thought myself childish in my eagerness to reach Angelorum, but the delight of expectation which shone on the Proctor’s wrinkled face far exceeded my own.

So I’ve decided to give NaNoWriMo a go this year. I first heard about it three years ago, but every November since has made it impossible to participate. This year, I’ve got some things going on, and I don’t think I have much of a chance of reaching 50,000 words. Even so, I think it’s worth doing if it gets me writing again, and even if I reach half that number I’ll be happy.

I debated on it for a while, and I decided to post my (hopefully) daily progress here. This blog is intended to be a look at works in progress, raw and unedited, and things that I’m not sure what to do with yet. This is definitely both.

I’m not entirely sure where this is going yet, but my goal is just to enjoy the ride. I always enjoy feedback, but in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, none of this will be edited until after the end of the month. That is, assuming I make it there!

Since I didn’t get to write anything yesterday, this is my progress for days 1 and 2. I’ve already done some more today, and you’ll be seeing it soon. Anyway, I hope you get some enjoyment out of this!

6 [TK-MONTH], Anno Ordinis 1093

My Dearest M——,

I hope these words reach you with as much joy and excitement as that with which they leave my pen. Indeed, I write in such a frenzied hand that I fear you will not be able to read them, such is my hast in eagerness to set down that which I have to say. There, a deep calming breath and a steaming mug of the Licorice Tea that I love so has calmed my excited tremors and steadied my hand. Ah, a marked improvement already! Now, as you are no doubt wondering what has worked me into such a state, perhaps I should begin where last I left off.

No doubt you will recall that, in my last missive, I told you how I had been chosen to accompany the Proctor on his sabbatical journey to Angelorum, the homeworld of our Chapter—and, indeed, our entire Order. After the great lengths to which I went in that previous letter to expound the loathing with which I viewed this assignment, the tedium of the long months in Fuguespace, the unbearable doldrums of such a ruined—if sanctified—backwater, you must be quite perplexed at the tone which I here adopt; indeed, my change of heart surprises none so much as it does me. Yet, I think, there is quite an excellent reason for it, which, if you’ll allow me to proceed in due course, shall become clear to you, my dearest one.

[So here’s the beginning of a first-draft work in progress. If the beginning sounds familiar to you, it’s because it was 50 First Lines #31. Of course, that line is still free for you to use however you wish, but this is my take on one way it could go. Let me know what you think!]

“You may feel a mild burning sensation as your soul is removed from your body,” said a pleasant voice. “Please try to relax.”

Daniel forced his fingers to stop tap-tap-tapping on the hard plastic arm of the chair and tried to slow his racing heart through sheer force of will. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out. He was sure that they had people do that all the time. Sure, all he had to do was stand up, maybe make a joke about the chair being uncomfortable, and…

“Your soul has been successfully extracted,” the voice continued in its conversationally unemotional tone. “Thank you for your kind donation. If you are experiencing any dizziness, disorientation, or loss of memory, please remain seated. These should pass within one to two minutes. If such symptoms persist, please press the call button next to your…”

The voice continued its pre-recorded monologue, but Daniel just blinked. That was it? It was already over? He glanced around the small, featureless room, but nothing seemed to have changed. Not that there was anything to change: there were only the four clinical white walls, drop panel ceiling inset with florescent lights, and the red plastic chair. And himself, of course. But he hadn’t changed either, or at least he didn’t feel any different. He hadn’t felt anything at all. Wasn’t losing your soul supposed to feel… well, feel like something?